


Puppie Love

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitten by a seawolf* Thomas turns furry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppie Love

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Art thou certain of thy fitness to command the Margaret?" Drake asked Doughtie a week after the gentleman had been savaged by a sea-wolf* during a hunt to reprovision the fleet. "I doubt not thy strength of will, but ye may need strength of arm as well."

"My wounds bother me not in the least," Thomas said, opening his shirt to reveal faint white lines against his fine, pale skin. "The pure air and sufficiency of fresh meat has done wonders, meseems."

Drake nodded. "Aye, that it has." His eyes lingered for a moment over Thomas's chest. "Indeed, it has put more hair on thy chest."

Thomas laughed and did up his shirt. "Mayhap 'tis a sign of a bitter winter to come." He clapped Drake on the back. "Shall I take the fly-boat, then, Master Drake?"

"Go thou and take the Margaret." Drake watched as Doughtie strode away. Indeed the man seemed invigorated. Drake admired Doughtie's... ah... posture. Doughtie was a fine, upright gentleman, as he had learned in Ireland. "Take her and do thou a hasty survey of the nearest islands. I would see thou return within the week."

Doughtie turned back with a flip of his cape and nodded.

Despite his order the fly-boat did not return within the week, indeed its return was delayed so long that Drake finally gave orders to leave off reprovisioning, and seek the Margaret. The next day it was sighted, and Drake went himself on a small vessel to meet it. "Master Doughtie, how goes it?" he cried on nearing the ship.

Doughtie leaned down and shouted, "All the better for our reunion, Francis!"

Drake frowned as he came aboard the ship, not liking Doughtie's attitude; the man ought to be repentant. Doughtie's crew wore sullen looks, and moved about their business slowly until Doughtie smiled at them, showing his teeth in a not-quite-smile, whereupon they hastened to their work. "Come below," Doughtie said cheerfully. "There is fresh meat and still some wine. We shall talk as good companions once more, and tell each other all that has come to pass."

"Aye, we must needs talk, Thomas." There had been rumours of Doughtie's arrogance upsetting the crew and Drake began to see how well-founded they were. They entered Doughtie's cabin. Drake wrinkled his nose at the smell of rough-cured pelts that Doughtie had strewn about the deck.

Doughtie's sharp eyes noted Drake's reaction. "Tis easier on the feet than bare planks, Captain General." 

It was only then that Drake noticed that Doughtie's feet were indeed bare. "Art thou turning to the ways of a common mariner, then, Thomas?"

Doughtie's grin returned, gleaming white against the silken gleam of his beard. "A man needs must learn new ways to suit new climes." He called for a meal, and escorted Drake to a table set not with silver, but with gracefully carved wood and bone. "I find the metal imparts an unpleasant taste."

Drake was more and more puzzled by Doughtie's manner. He held his silence until after the lad placed a covered platter in front of them, and hastily departed. "You have changed, Thomas."

"Indeed I have." Thomas uncovered the platter to reveal a pile of nearly raw steaks. "For the better."

Drake looked at the bloody meat with disgust. "Is this a jest, Thomas?"

"Nay." Doughtie cut a large piece of meat and ate it with evident relish. "Thou hast seen the natives and remarked upon their vigor and comlieness?"

"Aye." Drake opened the wine that sat on the table, and poured himself a glass. He drank it off straight away, troubled.

"Their health cometh from their habits, Francis. They do not burn the goodness from the flesh they consume, nor do they bind themselves up with overmuch of clothing." Doughtie put a hand to his ruff, immaculate and crisply starched as ever. "See thou the result of my adherence to their precepts." He removed his ruff and collar and opened up the jacket, shirt and under-linen, baring his chest, lean, muscular and even more densely pelted than before.

Drake reached his hand out, and then pulled it back, embarrassed. "Aye, I see." He poured and drank more wine.

"Seeing is not as convincing an argument as touching, Francis," Doughtie said softly, his eyes catching amber glints of lamplight, his teeth like polished ivory. "Touch me, Francis. I beg of thee." He came around the table and went to his knees. "I am thy dog," he whispered. "Thou art my leader in all things."

Drake nearly choked on the wine. He blinked, and then slowly smiled. "Aye. My dog, is it?" He gave in to the impulse and stroked Thomas's hair. "So thou dost remember Ireland."

"Never did I forget, my lord." Thomas turned his head and licked Drake's fingers. "I am thy war-hound, thy watch-dog, thy bitch." 

"It comes to my mind that I have let thee run too long free of leash and tether, my Thomas." Drake made his hands into a collar about Thomas's throat, and was pleased by Thomas's instant display of willing submission. "I wouldst show thee once more who is thy true master. A swift rod to thy backside wouldst not come amiss, methinks."

Doughtie moaned. "I only ask that I mayst see thy face while thee correct my lack of training." He looked up at Drake, his eyes large and dark and puppylike in appeal.

"Get thee to thy kennel; I shall advance thy education." Drake stood up and began undressing. In Ireland, Doughtie had knelt to ease Drake's need, but balked at offering the gift of his arse. It had been enough, Drake had thought, but now he knew it had but whetted his appetite, and made him resentful; made him see Thomas's every gesture, every expression, as tease and insolence.

Thomas stripped quickly. Once they were both naked Drake paused to admire his dog, lean and muscled and sleekly pelted; like a fine-bred coursing hound, indeed. Thomas grinned and laid himself down on his bed, turning around and around to arrange the heaped pelts upon it to match the contours of his body before laying down on his back and lifting his wide-spread knees. 

Drake snatched up an unlit lamp and used the oil it contained to slick himself. When he prepared Thomas to receive him, the startled gasp and puppie-like wriggle made him realize this was a virgin passage, indeed. He was gratified to be Thomas's first. "It will hurt, my Thomas, but soon 'twill be transformed to pleasure," he promised as he mounted his bitch.

Thomas flung his head back and growled at Drake's less than gentle entry, but he made no move to escape. "Aye... that it will." He wrapped his legs around Drake's waist, the soft hair covering them silken and warm. "Be thou the leader of my pack, my lord and master."

Drake grunted and obliged heartily, thrusting deep and holding tightly onto the panting body beneath him. Not counting the cabin-boy, the little slave Maria, and the nanny-goat they'd captured alive on one of the unnamed islands, this was the first time in months Drake had a good fuck. And none of the others pleased him as much as Thomas. He liked someone strong under him; it made Drake even stronger.

He was enjoying himself so much that he didn't mind at all when Thomas rose up in his extremity of pleasure and bit him on the shoulder, drawing blood. "Ah!" he shouted and spent himself generously before falling forward onto Thomas, all heat and soft fur over warm muscle. 

Thomas growled again and shifted under Drake. He licked the wound he'd made. "Be thou the leader of my pack," he said softly.

Drake lifted his head and smiled at Thomas. His smile faded as Thomas's beard crawled up his face, and Thomas's nose elongated, and Thomas's ears pricked up. Drake tried to scream, but found it choked off as the wolf's tongue slipped into his mouth. He found himself lying on his back, staring up in horror at a pair of bright gold-brown eyes, surrounded by seal-brown fur.

The wolf laughed, with Thomas's voice and lowered his massive head to lick Drake's throat. "My leader." 

Drake put up his hand to push the wolf away, but found himself stroking the rich fur and smiling, as full understanding swept down upon him. He grinned. "My bitch."

Thomas swiveled his furry ears and grinned. "I'm hungry, my master," he growled softly.

Drake thought a moment. "Aye." He licked his lips, feeling his tongue slide over sharpened fangs. "I shall sup upon Ned Bright. I give John Brewer to thee."

Thomas whined happily and wagged his tail.

**Author's Note:**

> Contrary to popular belief the more formal Elizabethan usage is “you,” and “thou” is a diminutive, used only with a close friend/relative, or a person clearly a social inferior.
> 
> PUPPY: An affected or conceited coxcomb. (Due to Thomas Doughty spelling his name Doughtie on his will, it's an in-joke in this fandom to spell 'y' ending words 'ie'.
> 
> *The killing of the 'sea-wolves', AKA seals, was noted in Francis Pretty's diary, sometime between April 18th and April 27th before Doughtie and the fly-boat went astray.
> 
> Also Ned Bright committed perjury to get Thomas condemned, and John Brewer accused him of groping his butt (during a 'welcome aboard' ceremony where ALL the sailors were doing stuff like that). They deserved to be eaten.


End file.
